The Lost Pages
by depplosion
Summary: A certain blondhaired, violeteyed vampire meets the Phantom of the Opera. Slightly AU, set before Christine is in the picture, based on Susan Kay's Erik.


In 1990, Susan Kay wrote a novel which depicts the story of the Phantom of the Opera. The story begins at his birth and ends, respectively, very shortly after his death. Much of the novel was written based on extensive research of the locations mentioned in the book, as well as the notes of the author of the original novel, Gaston Leroux. Monsieur Leroux has claimed to have had contact with, if not the Opera Ghost himself, then those few who were close to him. Upon obtaining certain documents, formerly owned by Leroux, Kay came into some very interesting information.However, at the behest of another, more famous author, a portion of the story regarding this information was omitted from the final version of the book.

This author is Anne Rice, perhaps the most well-known writer of vampire fiction since Bram Stoker, himself. The reason for the omission of this chapter of Erik's life was due simply to copyright. The Vampire Lestat is presumably a fictional character created by Rice, and is featured in and narrates the majority of her Vampire Chronicles. When she found out that Susan Kay was planning to include her precious "character" in her own novel, she was not happy. Not wishing to cause any controversy and trying her best to avoid a lawsuit, Kay stepped down and agreed to disclude any mention of Lestat in her book.

What you don't know, dear readers, is that the Vampire Lestat did (does...?) exist, as did The Phantom, also known as Erik. This is their story.

Part One: Lestat

I had sensed him ever since I set foot in the Opera Garnier, right in the heart of Paris' throbbing artistic pulse. I sensed it before I'd even come through the grand doors, before I'd ascended that decadent, bestatued staircase. It was archetecture, decor at it's very finest, and I was certain that I belonged here. But what was this alluring and mysterious presence that I detected? It wasn't at all like the presence; that which I had sensed during those first few seconds of my newfound eternity. This was not entirely vampiric, but it was too strong to be human. I was intriegued from the very start, and if all the other wonders that the opera had to offer didn't make me decide to purchase a season ticket, this presence did.

Sometimes it was more clear than others. It could not discern individual thoughts or images from it, but it instilled very strong emotions within me, for such prominent emotions as love, despair, self-loathing, passion, and a myriad of others emanated from it, constantly. Whatever it was, it was somewhere, here, in this building. It was important, somehow, like if the structure had limbs, this entity would be one of them. It seemed to be part of the very archetecture, itself, but I wasn't sure how this could be possible.

I went to the opera for every performance, sitting through it all, only mildly entertained after the first few showings, and all the while thinking of this pulsating energy which seemed to become more prominent during the second act. It took me awhile, but I was eventually able to discern the source of this energy, or at least its location--box five, whose curtains were forever closed.

After the performance, I decided to go right to box five and see what I could see. Unfortunately, it was locked, and though I know I could have easily broken the lock, I didn't. Whatever this thing was, I was not ready to alert it to my presence. I would reveal myself in due course, but first I wanted to discover more about this strange being, if they were even corporeal enough to be referred to as such.

I didn't really know what to call it, until one night, at the post-performance soiree, I picked up an interesting bit of information as I mingled. Apparently the Opera Garnier was quite haunted, for I heard a group of patrons talking about an "Opera Ghost." I was, of course, very interested to know what they were talking about, and so I politely interrogated them on this subject until I was, not satisfied, but still more curious. But they had told me all that they knew, with the suggestion that perhaps I ask one of the performers, or perhaps one of the managers.

I did so, that very night. I went backstage and conversed with some of the little opera rats, whose tales were far taller than those of the party guests, earlier. They entertained me, but in truth, I believed scarcely a word of it all. Pretty and enthusiastic in their story-telling as they were, they were just silly little girls, and I had still not satisfied my hunger for knowledge of "O.G.".

I decided that I would not bother asking the managers just then, for I didn't want to be too conspicuous if this "ghost" were watching me without my knowing it.

---to be continued 


End file.
